


Things Left Unsaid

by Nidvaller



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Drabble Collection, Multi, Original Character(s), Story Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22136725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nidvaller/pseuds/Nidvaller
Summary: A collection of tales around the Warrior of Light, Nielle Silverthorne, and companions.May there be sorrow.May there be grief.May there be desperation.And perhaps... hopes and dreams.Joy.Love.
Relationships: WoLxMany
Kudos: 7





	Things Left Unsaid

There used to be a time where Nielle dreamed of being the Azure Dragoon. There was such a time before this, when he was young, innocent,  _ free. _ Long has that time come and gone, and the screams and the blood staining his hands cannot leave his mind. No, it cannot, not while it still echoes in his mind, in his heart. He longed for the song to cease, longed for his heart to feel free, so he can touch the heavens and not feel the shadows, the metal on tongue, and the ever pressing weight on his chest. So when he awoke on his bed in the Fortemps Manor, he could only feel the retch and dry heave that came with nightmares, and how all he could do was silently scream. For what good is being a warrior of his caliber if all he loved died at his fingertips?

...Nay, no answer came to his mind that was sufficient.The dreams of a home restored, the hope of finally belonging somewhere, it has all soured in the wake of his friends' deaths. Moenbryda, Haurchefant,  _ Ysayle.. _

Ysayle...

That was a name he never utters unless absolutely necessary, the wake of her death doing the worst damage on his heart. He realized too late,  _ far too late _ , what he felt for her. She was not just another warrior of light, not just another who dreamed of peace. To him... Her death felt like shards of glass shattering his heart from how fast it ruptured. He loved her, he realized, as her corse fell down in a shower of ice and snow.

That image never left his mind, not for one second. Neither did Haurchefant's death, all things considered. He also learned far too late from his brothers that he meant to court the warrior of light, his friend.  _ Court for marriage! _ While under the faith of the Twelve such practice was not forbidden, he knew it was frowned upon. And yet... And yet Haurchefant loved him all the same.

_ Love is a blight, a plague that only serves to steal your breath and soul, _ Nielle had finally concluded.

Estinien is long gone as well, all things considered. Even with Nidhogg slain, his eyes sought to steal the man away after the victory over Thordan and his knights. Right. He is still out there, trapped in the cyclone of rage and hate and sheer power. Although he wished he could go hunt him down, there was no point. Not while the wounds still panged on his body. And it was not like he could leave Aymeric alone. The poor sod was too kind and compassionate to allow his gaze to be anywhere thus.

But alas, naught can be done to ease heart and soul of the Ishgardian on his bed. Nay, he doned robes fit more for a mage and headed out the manor in the dead of night. Perhaps... Perhaps it is time to make good on the promise of drink.

\-------

A soft knock came at the door of the de Borel Manor. The steward, not quite expecting for his lord to have company this late, hastily peeped out the hole that decorated the door. When he saw who awaited, he quickly opened the door. Here, in the doorway, came an obscenely tall Elezen with skin of silver and hair of shock white dyed with blue. A habit of black and blue lined with leathers and furs, cloaking his long, lithe limbs, his the shape of his body. Piercing pale eyes looked back at him with a sigh, the icy blue of them showing a desire of company that drowned within the sorrow. "Is Aymeric awake?"

The steward nodded as he made a short bow. "Yes, as is his wont. He currently is drinking his spirits while having nose deep in a book. Please, come in, and allow me to take your coat."

Nielle could only nod numbly as he walked inside and shed his coat. Underneath, more robes covered his body, shoulder to toes, and while lithe muscle still pressed and stretched the fabric, it was clear the cut was meant more for a woman. Such was one of the small comforts and peculiarities of Nielle’s taste. While the Scions knew of how rather fluid in gender the elezen was, that was something not quite in the open for those outside the circle. Thankfully, the steward made no comment as he guided the unexpected and welcomed guest to the study, where Aymeric lounged in the loveseat with a glass of wine in hand and a book on his lap. As Aymeric’s gaze flitted upward to who had walked in, a smile, and a small flush as he realized what Nielle was wearing, graced his face.

“Nielle! What brings you here, friend?”   
  
The elezen in question cleared his throat. “Well, uh… I am here to take you up on that drink at last.”   
  
His smile only grew wider as his steward brought another glass and served the wine as Nielle found a seat nearby on the small sofa. The man nodded to the old elezen in gratitude as he walked out, closing the door behind him and finally giving them some measure of privacy. The silence grew as long, yet comfortable, while the guest in question took a few small sips. The wine was sweet from honey and birch syrup, and spiced in layers that he could not even point to. Plums? Rolanberries? The taste was outside his reach, but not at all distasteful for his saccharine palette. 

Eyes finally flicked to Aymeric’s form as Nielle took a different kind of drink. Considering Aymeric was not expecting guests, and seemed to be lounging just to relax and sleep, the clothes he had donned seemed obscene and debauched compared to the usual suit of armor the commander wore. Instead, in its stead, a tight fitting yet luxuriously soft shirt of silks of the most beautiful blue and embroidered with silver and black filigree adorned his chest, while simple trousers of black satin clung to his hips and legs. His feet were bare, as well as his forearms, as sleeves were rolled and revealed smooth, pink tinged skin and calloused yet well manicured hands.  _ Fury, he looks breathtaking,  _ Nielle thought as thick swallows bobbed larynx.

“So, care to tell me why you chose this time at night to come?”   
  
“Well… You were among the few people I know who would be awake at this time,”  _ and I don’t want to be alone,  _ came the unsaid sentiment.   
  
Azure eyes lined with sooty lash lowered their gaze as Aymeric nodded solemnly. “Aye, I figured as much. Two lonely men sharing drink and airs often does wonders for the soul, eh?”   
  
“Right. That is what I thought, too. And I… Some thoughts I have, well, I lack a care to give voice to.”   
  
“Because then they would be too real?”

“Yes.”   
  
There was a pregnant pause before it was broken once more.   
  
“Aymeric? Tell me… Do you feel like there is a cracked, jagged edge in your heart, that normal salve nor balm can soothe? A deep desire to have an anathema for the pain?”

Aymeric studied Nielle deeply and sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. I have felt it long as my father rejected me, and again as Estinien was lost to us. Mayhaps you feel such pain now?”

Nielle could only nod, his throat seizing as it usually does when claimed by emotions.    
  
The commander closed his book, already marked off with ribbon as to where he left off and came to the sofa where Nielle sat. Eyes met at last as they studied each other, seeing their own darkness and pain mirrored in each other. The pain of loss, the pain of longing, and the desperate grasping for a hope that constantly dodged from reach. “And yet you are here, seeking companionship.” 

Nielle could only nod once more as Aymeric sat down next to him and wrapped an arm on shoulders, causing the former to shiver and quickly lean into the warmth. It had been too long since someone had given him such comfort, such  _ warmth, _ and he had not realized just how starved he had been this whole time. He also came to realize Aymeric wore a cologne that smelled of pine and winter berries, a scent that reminded Nielle of a childhood in the Coerthan wilds. Right… Nielle needed to remind himself that he was part of a minor house. Memories of hope and innocence, joy and laughter, and of mischiefs left untold flitted in his mind. For such a cologne to remind him of times left to oblivion…

Aymeric smiled shyly as breath came close enough to tickle skin. “Perhaps… Perhaps, if you feel inclined, we can retire to somewhere more intimate. It seems we are both starved.”   
  


Nielle could only nod as lips crashed into each other in hunger and longing.

\------

It was not long that they were on top of plush sheets and even plusher mattress. Not long that the door was closed shut and locked tight as lips crashed into each other over and over again, wanting, waiting, wandering. The crackle of the fireplace seemed distant as the roar of blood rushed within veins and heavy pants heaved out of their chest. No one knew who led, and for once, the lack of care was welcomed. 

The warmth was too much to bear, despite the chill and snow outside that heralded yet another blizzard, and whines of protest escaped lips as too much restraint suffocated skin. Fingers fumbled against buttons and ties as Aymeric’s shirt fell away unceremoniously, and the plait that held silvery hair up fell as the braid was let go, leaving tresses to hang beyond the small of Nielle back.    
  
“So overdressed,” Aymeric whispered as he unrobed the Duskwight and set loose all the layers of cloth that covered and hid skin. What he did not expect, however, was the myriad of tattoos that covered chest, shoulders and back, that covered thighs, whorls of black and color that was both aesthetically pleasing yet also seemed to indicate something arcane in nature.

“I might have been taking up arcanum, thaumaturgy and astrology in my spare time…” said Nielle, shrugging and smiling shyly.    
  
Aymeric could only look upwards in adoration as he began to kiss skin, trailing the path of black and licking at mounds of flesh until they rose and hardened tight against the ministrations and cool air. Once hardened, Nielle could only make dulcet moans as Aymeric seized them between lips, playful and teasing and so thoroughly enraptured at the idea of making such a warrior be clay in his hands. A sharp gasp could only be heard from Nielle as Aymeric palmed at his underthings and made the area damp in arousal, long fingers twirling and tracing around length half hardened, and it was apparent that the warrior was also very well endowed. As much as Aymeric was a glutton for punishment, tonight would be better served giving pleasure more than being the recipient. 

Instead, he reached for a cabinet inside his nightshelf and pulled out an intricate flask full of clear fluid, and pulled off his own remaining clothes and Nielle’s underthings. Feeling the equipment was one thing. Seeing it was  _ different. _ Aymeric could only swallow thickly as kisses trailed down abdomen, doting on navel, and finally to hips as lubricant coated fingers came to prod at Nielle’s entrance. The man shuddered and whined as a finger intruded the space between plump cheeks and thrusted itself in cyclical motions, curling and stretching the space as the taut muscles writhed before relaxing, with each milestone adding another finger in, until finally four could be fit inside. For a virgin, the duskwight was very receptive. 

By the time Aymeric was done preparing his friend and companion for the night, Nielle’s pupils were blown wide and dilated enough to obscure the icy blue of them. Silvered skin was flushed with red, the color and tone looking much like a bruise on someone who would have otherwise had porcelain for skin.

“Aymeric… Please.  _ Please,”  _ he moaned out, his body shaking from want and need.

With such an expression on his face… How was Aymeric to refuse? He crawled up the bed to between Nielle’s thighs and lined himself up as fingers coated his length with lubricant. Once ready, Aymeric breathed in deep and plunged inside, gasping at the sheer warmth and welcome that awaited him. The insides were like velvet to his senses, and yet, something more, something out of his reach. Words escaped his mind as eventually rhythm was found, unsaid, unasked, and yet answered. Nothing needed to be expressed that needed formal language. Instead, thoughts were weaved into sensation, into action, tongues laced together as lips brushed and met. Nothing more needed to be learned, as bodies collided like notes in an orchestral piece, like feet to a tango. The steps came naturally, just as much as it escalated, and just as it escalated, so came the chorus. The chorus of moans, pants and sweat as their flushed bodies came close to their climax, trying to prolong the inevitable as more want, more of a connection, continued to forge.

Once the climax came in unison, their panting, sweaty bodies fell from the heavens they had reached into the bed, silks wrapping around them as their bodies continued to be entwined from their dance. Eyes too tired to stay awake closed as dreamless sleep came for both.

Whatever paperwork came in the morn can wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reaching the end of this story. If you wish to join a community full of writers for FFXIV fanfiction authors and get more stories like this, join the discord through the following link below. After all, it was they who motivated me to write this.
> 
> https://discord.gg/2HUtUKK


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